


What Life Would Be Like

by WithGreatPowerComesGreatResponsibility



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Classic Ramsay but Better, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, I'm Not Very Good at This Part, Light Dom/sub, No Plot/Plotless, Reader-Insert, Some Plot, Violence, What-If, i own nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithGreatPowerComesGreatResponsibility/pseuds/WithGreatPowerComesGreatResponsibility
Summary: If you were his, just a one shot.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Reader, Ramsay Bolton/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	What Life Would Be Like

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up thinking about this today. I worked on it and here we go, I'm happy with it. I hope you like it too!

Ramsay Bolton stirred in his sleep, his eyes fluttered open. He was sprawled in his bed, his arm still wrapped protectively around you as you slept on his arm with your hand resting on his chest. The room was dark, save for a lonely candle still burning nearby.   
You shivered beside him and he pulled the furs up around you. He looked at your sleeping face, so peaceful. His eyes caught the bitemark on your shoulder, still healing. You had cried out pretty loudly when he did that, which only excited him more…  
He knew he was a little fucked up. The abuse he had suffered over years at the hands of his father, was always present in his mind. He knew he had an affinity for torturing people, he was a Bolton after all. But it seemed even being the true born son wasn’t enough for his father. When Ramsay was eight years old, right after his mother died suddenly, his father looked him in the eye and told him the awful things he had done to her. Saying in the end she had been weak, and they were better off without her. Ramsay decided in that moment, no matter how awful his other urges got, he would not rape, it was his Code, this of course, only disappointed his father further.  
But despite all this, here you were, the eldest Stark, clinging to him for protection. You had arrived at the Dreadfort two months ago.   
Roose wanted the two of you to marry and rule the North.   
Ramsay knew he would do it, even if it was just to keep you safe and away from his father, who never missed an opportunity to rake his eyes over you. He didn’t like that, he would not allow his father to harm you. He may not have been able to stop him when the abuse was directed at himself, but he wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing if his father tried to hurt you. You were his and he would protect you.  
Your eyes flutter, drawing his attention back, he realizes then that he was squeezing you into him. He relaxed his arm and you leaned in, kissing his neck, you slide your leg over his, craving his warmth. “I love you, Ramsay,” you muttered before drifting off again.  
His heartbeat quickened. How in seven hells had he found someone who cared for him so deeply? Someone who enjoyed pain with her pleasure. Someone who even joined in or in the very least stayed and watched him conduct his business in the dungeons.   
It was on that day, when the two of you working together had gotten the confession from Theon, that Ramsay knew you were different. You were someone he could love.   
Your grip on him and steady breathing pulled him back to sleep…

Roose Bolton was strong, you tried desperately to get out of his grasp. You tried to scream but he put his hand over your mouth. You heard your dress rip and then you were pushed to the ground. This wasn’t really happening, was it? You flailed, you squirmed, you would go down fighting. Just before he pushed himself inside he was roughly tackled, he and Ramsay tumbled to the side. Ramsay was up first, he punched his father, over and over in the face. His face was a bloody mess before Ramsay finally turned and came to your side.   
“Did he…?” he couldn’t even finish the question.  
“No,” you reply.  
He pulled you close, relieved.   
“You’re hurt,” you say taking one of his hands, looking at his bloody knuckles.   
“I’ll live…I can’t say the same for him,” he said, his eyes meeting yours.  
“We have to kill him,” you replied echoing his thoughts. “You should take your time,” you say leaning in to kiss him. “This one should suffer a bit first.”  
He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “You know me so well.”

Roose was tied to the wooden X in the dungeon. He was just waking up.  
“What do you think we should start with?” Ramsay asked.  
“Well, for all his raping I think we should take his…” You trailed off as your eyes found Ramsay’s, he smiled, delighted as he selected the perfect knife for the job.  
“No. No,” Roose said. “Think about this, son.”  
“Oh, I have,” Ramsay cooed as he walked slowly to his father. “Scream all you like dear father. You won’t be leaving this room alive.”

******************************************************

“You’re the Lord now,” you said as you brushed your fingers over his stubbly face.   
He grabbed your fingers lightly with his teeth. He sat across from you in the bathtub, the water was the prefect temperature, steam rising up out of the water and off our skin. A fire roared in the fireplace nearby, giving his room a beautiful orange glow.   
“And that makes you, my Lady…if you want to be.”  
You smiled at the adorable way his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.  
“I do.”  
He took your hand in his. “I will never hurt you, my Lady…unless you beg me to. I will always take care of you, from this day, until my last day.”  
You smiled and then closed the space between the two of you, wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your lips to his.  
A moment later he pulls you back and turns you around, your back to him.  
“Ramsay!” you object.  
He shushes you. “I’m going to wash your hair now.”  
“But…”  
“We must be clean before we get dirty,” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers to cascade all over your body despite how hot the water was. 

“Tell me what you’re being punished for, pet,” he said close to you ear.  
“For eating all the sweets and not saving any for you,” you said quietly as he finished tying your hands together in front of you. You were leaning over the table completely naked.  
“I’m going to slap you six times, count for me.”  
“One,” you said as he hit your behind with his favorite wooden paddle, sensations spread throughout your body.  
“Two.”  
The pain was getting delicious and you pulled on the soft red rope that bound your hands.   
“Three!”  
You cried out loosing all sense of time and reality.  
“Four.”  
You said in a hiss as he put a little more force behind that one.  
“Five…”   
You said in a near whisper…you body shaking in a way you relished in, getting ready for what was coming…  
“Six…!”  
You said in a half-cry half-moan as waves of ecstasy overtook your body, he took advantage of the opportunity to take you to the bed where the real fun took place. At the end, he sank his teeth into your back, causing you to cry out in complete bliss.

He carried you to his bed, placed you gently on it and then he joined you on the other side. Sharing his bed was new to him, but in the time that he had known you, he had come to long for your touch throughout the night.  
He watched in fascination as you moved closer to him, putting your face between his neck and shoulder, your hand resting on his chest.   
He watched as you smiled before falling into sleep.   
He would be up a little longer, watching you, touching your face lightly, noting the bruises, and bitemarks. He pulled the furs up over both of you, settling in as the snow drifted down outside. Now that his father was dead, no one was going to bother either of you. He sighed, you were safe, he was safe, and he could finally sleep.


End file.
